This is the fifth consecutive day of snow in Vancouver, and the third day of heavy snowfall. Vancouver really is not used to this. The trolly buses that I take to and from Yaletown have been simply awful — long waits, delays, random bus switches. The old tree in front of the Kommune has lost its two biggest limbs to the unfamiliar weight of so much snow, and our neighbour’s tree came down, taking out powerlines and a car. UBC was completely closed on Monday, and I suspect it might be tomorrow, too.
And Vancouverites themselves are clearly not equipped to handle it. I see them, walking fast, shoulders hunched forward, trying to use umbrellas to ward off this unfamiliar precipitation. All violent shivering and chattering teeth, since they haven’t learned how to psych themselves out of being cold. I told a couple stuck in a snowbank how to get the car out — by rocking it forward and backward until it popped out. They looked at me like I told them to wait for fairies to fly it out, and then proceeded to put the pedal to the floor and spin their tires for about five minutes while yanking the steering wheel left and right.
I actually find the whole situation kind of charming. In the rest of Canada, a late-November week like this would pass without comment. In Saskatchewan, it would be considered relatively pleasant. But Vancouver has been brought to her knees.
Well, I’ve been pretty busy the past week or so. Last weekend, after talking to my friend, bodyguard and travelling companion, Janelle, we decided to skip Thailand’s Aussie-packed beaches and instead some more of Southeast Asia.